


Come Home From the War

by naasad



Series: I'll Be Good [11]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Flashpoint (Comics)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Father Todd, Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major character death - Freeform, Talon!Dick, don't tell batman, jason is a good big brother, sorta kinda not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 09:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15336519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naasad/pseuds/naasad
Summary: They forgot about the Shade.





	Come Home From the War

**Author's Note:**

> Poems Cited:  
> [ _Romance_ , Charles Reznikoff](https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/romance)  
> [ _Home is so Sad_ , Philip Larkin](https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/home-so-sad)  
> [ _Where They Lived_ , Thomas Hardy](https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/where-they-lived)
> 
> Apologies in advance, this is only about 60% my work, but I wanted a unique way for Jason and Talon to communicate, that the kids might not _understand_ but they could eventually _get_.

One moment, Dick was doing back handsprings on the pews for Tim and Bruce’s amusement, and the next he was writhing in agony.

In the front of the church, Father Todd glanced back at them, terrified speechless right in the middle of Sunday sermon.

Tim was barely aware of him cutting it short and ushering everyone out of the building, already panicking, sucking in great heaving breaths of air.

Then, suddenly, it was over.

Dick stood up, impossibly taller, given he’d been dead since he was eleven, with strange yellow eyes.

Tim and Bruce instinctively stepped behind Jason.

“Where?” the stranger rasped.

And that was Dick’s voice, older, deeper, but undeniably him, and the two other boys suppressed a shudder.

Jason scowled. “You’re in my church. What – who are you?”

Not-Dick stared, unnerving to a simple man, but Jason Todd had looked upon the face of death and spat in it.

“Talon,” he finally said.

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “Like the Court of Owls?” he asked. “Maybe we should get Batman in on this.”

Talon screamed.

He screamed, clawing at his chest, and the boys watched in shock as a uniform appeared – burnt and bronze. “He killed me!” Talon cried. “The Bat killed me! The Court promised he couldn’t!”

Jason sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath. “Okay,” he finally said. “No Batman. For now. You’re Talon, you’re dead, anything else?”

Talon went silent, deathly so. Then he rocked back on his heels and recited.  
 _“The troopers are riding, are riding by_  
 _the troopers are riding to kill and die_  
 _that a clean flag may cleanly fly._

_“They touch the dust in their homes no more,_   
_they are clean of the dirt of shop and store,_   
_and they ride out clean to war.”_

Jason nodded slowly.   
_“Home is so sad. It stays as it was left,_  
 _Shaped to the comfort of the last to go_  
 _As if to win them back. Instead, bereft_  
 _Of anyone to please, it withers so,_  
 _Having no heart to put aside the theft_

_“And turn again to what it started as,_   
_A joyous shot at how things ought to be,_   
_Long fallen wide. You can see how it was:_   
_Look at the pictures and the cutlery._   
_The music in the piano stool. That vase.”_

Talon sobbed.  
 _“Dishevelled leaves creep down_  
 _Upon that bank to-day,_  
 _Some green, some yellow, and some pale brown;_  
 _The wet bents bob and sway;_  
 _The once warm slippery turf is sodden_  
 _Where we laughingly sat or lay._

_“The summerhouse is gone,_   
_Leaving a weedy space;_   
_The bushed that veiled it once have grown_   
_Gaunt trees that interlace,_   
_Through whose lank limbs I see too clearly_   
_The nakedness of the place._

_“And where were hills of blue,_   
_Blind drifts of vapor blow,_   
_And the names of former dwellers few,_   
_If any, people know,_   
_And instead of a voice that called, ‘Come in, Dears,’_   
_Time calls, ‘Pass Below!’”_

Jason took a step forward, carefully telegraphing his movements, then another, another, and another, until he had a weeping assassin in his arms.

“Where’s Dick?” Bruce asked, angry.

Jason glared and shook his head. “This is him. This is what the Court of Owls turned him into when they killed him the first time. And now he’s home with us.”

Bruce scowled.

Tim tilted his head to one side, then the other, then strolled up and took Talon’s hand.

Talon looked down at him and wept. “I know you.”


End file.
